Poems By Richard Chenevix Trench: New ed |
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SORRENTO.
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64
SORRENTO.
A FRAGMENT.
Fair fountains of man's art were there,Streams trickling down from stair to stair
And as, with lapse just audible,
From font to font the waters fell,
Around the lighted bubbles flew,
Starring the leaves with points like dew:
For tender myrtles near were set,
That in this happy clime had met
Unhoused the winter's deadliest air;
And the pale lemon-flower was there,
And the dark glittering leaves behind
The fruit with its discoloured rind:
While the long groves of orange made
A screen sun-proof, an ample shade,
With spacious avenues below,
Where one might wander to and fro,
Watching the little runnels creep
Round every root, and duly steep
With freshness all the thirsty soil;
Or lift a hand for easiest spoil,
And of the golden fruitage share,
Cool-hanging in the morning air.
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